Time in a Bottle
by Sue Pokorny
Summary: If the memory is kept alive, is anyone truly gone? Tag to 7.12, Time After Time. Picks up directly after episode ends.


_A short tag to 7.12, Time After Time. I find myself really liking Jodie Mills. I'm sorry she didn't get the time to explore a relationship with Bobby, but I'm glad she's sticking with the boys._

**Time in a Bottle**

Dean sighed, sinking back into the warm body for a moment before realizing who that warm body actually was. With a wince, he turned his head, giving Sheriff Jodie Mills a wide-eyed stare.

What the hell was she doing here?

"Hey," she smiled, a smile tugging at one side of her mouth. "How's it going?"

"Hey," he managed to croak before the irritation in his throat caused him to cough harshly.

"Whoa, easy there, tiger," the lady sheriff cautioned, her hold on him tightening slightly as he sagged with the effort of breathing. "Just relax."

Suddenly Sam was kneeling in front of him, his hair across his eyes as he dipped his head to get a good look at his brother.

"Nice outfit."

Dean rolled his eyes as he held out an arm. "Help me up, asshat."

Sam and Jodie hauled him to his feet, supporting his wobbly legs as they led him back into the front room and deposited him on the rusting metal chair near the table. He kept a hand around his throat, wincing as he tried to swallow against the swelling he could already feel.

"How bad?"

He let Sam remove his hand and tilt his head up, his eyes on his brother's face as he surveyed the damage Chronos' extra-strength grip had done to his neck.

"That's gonna leave a mark." Sam pressed a few spots, eliciting a groan from the patient. "Hurt?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ya think?" His voice came out a low growl, but Sam got the message and backed off, leaning back onto his heels.

Jodie appeared with a half-empty bottle of whiskey and held it out to him. "Take a few shots of this," she instructed. "It'll help."

Dean nodded his thanks and reached for the bottle. The alcohol burned his throat, causing another fit of coughing, but the warmth hit his stomach and spread through his body, quickly dispelling the ache. After a few more swallows, his throat felt more like sandpaper than gravel and he handed the bottle back to the sheriff.

"Thanks." His voice still sounded rough, but it no longer felt like it was on fire, so he considered it a win. "How'd you get me back?"

The sheriff and Sam exchanged looks, before Sam explained. "Once we knew when and where thanks to your note – nice job there, by the way. " Dean nodded slightly then motioned for him to continue. "Sheriff Mills – Jodie – hauled Bobby's research books from his storage locker here. We dove in and found a spell to summon a god. Since you'd given us a date, we just needed a time. Chronos' girlfriend gave us that. Apparently all the clocks stopped when he..." Sam stopped and cleared his throat. He ducked his head, not meeting his brother's eyes. "When he 'choked the life' out of you."

Dean took a deep breath, his hand making its way back to rub at his sore neck. "He almost did."

"Yeah," Sam continued. "Since you said you had a way to gank him, we figured once we got him and you here…"

"You did good, Sammy." Dean tilted his head to look at the sheriff who had remained silent through his brother's explanation. "You both did. Thanks."

After a moment of silence, Jodie set the bottle down and stood before him, hands on hips as she scrutinized him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like crap."

Dean gave her a roguish smile. He patted the lapel of his overcoat and raised his eyebrows. "I thought I looked pretty good."

She laughed. "No offense to the gangsta look, but I wasn't referring to your wardrobe. "

Dean turned to Sam and mouthed the words 'gangsta-look'.

Sam simply shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't argue with her, Dean. She has handcuffs."

The announcement didn't carry the threat Sam had hoped.

"I like handcuffs," Dean turned back to the sheriff.

Sam stood and hauled his brother to his feet, pointing him toward the stairs before he could say anything else. "Dude, you so don't want her to use her 'mom voice'. Let's get you out of that clown suit."

"Mom voice? Awesome."

* * *

><p>"You should be asleep."<p>

Dean huffed a silent laugh at the sheriff's softly spoken words, wincing as the ache in his throat amped up a notch. "I wish. "

The pain had slowly increased as his throat swelled from the abuse Chronos had inflicted upon it and he'd found himself choking as he'd tried to swallow lying down. Eventually he'd simply gotten up, thrown his overcoat that someone had tossed on him like a blanket over his brother's sleeping form and busied himself with "Dick" research on the laptop. He figured the Sheriff had left – or crashed in one of the other rooms – so had decided to finish off the bottle of whiskey alone. Now, with only a few swallows left in the bottle, he felt his stamina fading and was contemplating trying to get some sleep wedged up in the metal lawn chair.

He motioned toward his brother who was snoring lightly, leaned up against the wall. "Besides, Snow White over there is hogging all the blankets."

Sheriff Mills dropped down onto the cooler and leaned her elbows against the table. "You know he barely slept at all the entire time you were gone."

That didn't surprise Dean, but it was both annoying and comforting to know. He picked up the bottle, swirling the remainder of the liquid around before returning his gaze to the lady sheriff. "Can I ask you something?"

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Probably not." Dean admitted. His voice still sounded like he'd been chewing on glass and he was barely able to speak in a tone much above a whisper, but his curiosity was stronger than his discomfort and he forged ahead. "Why? Why help us?"

"You don't want my help?" Jodie's brows rose a bit as she tilted her head in question.

Dean waved a hand quickly. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm not trying to be a dick, but I just gotta know. You have a good job, respect, a life. Why get yourself mixed up in all this crap?"

She kept his gaze for a moment before leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. "You want the truth?"

"Please."

"A few years ago I had the bad luck to find out that a man I thought was nothing but a drunk and a lunatic was actually someone who spent his life saving people. When I lost my family, it wasn't because you and your brother and Bobby couldn't save them, it was because there were things out there that I didn't believe existed, that I didn't want to believe existed. After I got through the grief, I realized that there was so much more out there and you guys, Bobby, you did what you did and you never asked for thanks. You didn't even expect it. And I thought that really sucked."

Dean huffed in agreement. "No argument here."

"Yeah, well, I misjudged Bobby. I spent a lot of time seeing what I wanted and not seeing what was really there. I wanted to make it up to him. I wanted to… well none of that matters now. But…now, the only way I can deal with any of this is by doing what he did. Helping you and Sam."

Dean nodded. He understood that she felt she owed them for what happened with the zombies in Sioux Falls, maybe for even saving her from the Leviathons. She'd lost her husband and her kid. That was why most people got into the business. He just didn't want to be responsible for her life. He didn't want to be responsible for her death. "You don't owe us anything."

"Yeah, I do. I owe Bobby. And that means I owe you boys. You were his family, you know. He always worried about you two. I guess, in order to honor him, I get to worry about you, too."

Dean put the whiskey bottle to his mouth and took another drink before offering it to the sheriff. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Probably not." She agreed as she reached for the bottle and took a swig from it herself. "But, I made the mistake of thinking Bobby Singer was nobody. Now I know better, so you and Sam, you're going to have to deal with it."

Dean smiled and nodded his head once in agreement. "We've never gotten along much with cops."

Jodie returned the grin. "We're not so bad – once you get past the handcuffs." She took the last swig of the whiskey and held the bottle in her hand. "And now that we've drank all of Bobby's whiskey, I think it's time for you to get some sleep, young man."

Dean chuckled as he stifled a yawn. "Is that the 'mom voice' I've heard so much about?"

"Nope. I only break that out for special occasions." She stood and turned to the door. "I'm glad you're okay, Dean. I'm not sure Sam could've handled losing you."

Dean's eyes moved to his brother's slumbering form. "I'm not going anywhere."

Jodie nodded and quietly left the room, heading back up the stairs to the bedroom on the second floor.

Dean pushed the laptop closed and folded his arms across it. He leaned forward and rested his chin against his forearms, watching as Jodie disappeared up the rickety staircase. His gaze finally drifted to the empty bottle and he let one side of his mouth turn up in a sad grin. "Thanks, Bobby."

For everything.

The End.


End file.
